


The Collected Short Works of the Author Formerly Known as Tori

by vulcan_slash_robot



Category: Totalcox - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Demon Summoning, Legal Prostitution, M/M, Oral Sex, RPF, YouTube, how specific am i supposed to be i mean, this is an anthology bruh theres a lot to describe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9405500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcan_slash_robot/pseuds/vulcan_slash_robot
Summary: About five years ago, there was a large group of internet-friends known as the Classy as Fuck Crew, and our main shared hobby was Totalcox: an M/M RPF ship consisting of one youtuber who thought the whole thing was hilarious and one who really wished the other would stop reminding him we were doing it. Friendship is a strange thing sometimes.Between us we produced a massive body of work. Most lost interest as time passed. Of the original crew, in this respect, I consider myself the last man standing (as it were).I have come to AO3 to make record of my assembled short fics, or at least the good ones. Longer stories I still consider ongoing will follow as their own works, but here I share my own tales of Terraria characters, cursed amulets, games of the Sims, and other such utter nonsense that served as framing for the same silly love story many many many many times over.If you've followed Totalcox on Tumblr, these are the ones you've already read.





	1. Summoned

**Author's Note:**

> I've elected to post these in mostly reverse-chronological order, so prepare yourself to watch the writing get worse as it goes. 
> 
> "Summoned" was written after perusing a list of OTP prompts all about paranormal creatures and why at least half of your OTP should be them.

_They won’t mind,_ John assured himself as he hopped over the fence. _Well, they won’t be unreasonably pissed. This is important._

He’d been struggling to work up his confidence for weeks. He should have spoken up earlier, when they’d all been at his house, but he’d lost his nerve. Just like always, his three best friends had gone back to their shared house with a wave and a smile, none of them having any idea how he felt about one of them. It was absolutely stupidly ridiculous, and after another hour of frustrated pacing around his living room, he’d gone after them. 

Only the front door was locked already. He’d hesitated at the doorbell; there was no guarantee Jesse would be the one to answer it. So instead, here he was sneaking around the back of their house, looking for a fistful of loose gravel and trying to remember which window was Jesse’s room. This was how they always did it in movies, it couldn’t be complete bullshit, could it?

Peering in the windows from behind a shrub, John noticed one of his other friends moving around in a lit room, and quickly averted his eyes. That one was definitely Brooke’s. But the sight of a second silhouette drew his attention back. 

It was no secret that Brooke and the third member of the household, Sam, were in quite a stable relationship, so it wouldn’t be unusual to see him in her room. John wasn’t entirely sure why the man had his own room in the house to begin with. But there was no mistaking that shape, not for John, and the laughter and soft voices drifting from the cracked-open window only confirmed it. What the hell was Jesse doing in Brooke’s room at this time of night? 

Doubt edged in around his other feelings. Brooke and Jesse had always told everyone they were childhood friends, inseparable since middle school, and that he’d seemed a natural choice for someone for the couple to share rent with since he and Brooke understood one another so well. But what if that wasn’t the whole story? Was Brooke polyamorous? Were both men really hers? Or was it Sam who loved them both, or was everybody just with everybody in this house?

John skulked closer to the window. He was being foolish and leaping to conclusions. Still, such a revelation could ruin his plans and dash his hopes, so he needed to know the truth. 

“–episode was so brutal,” Jesse was giggling, when John got close enough to understand. He seemed to be talking about the season finale they’d all gathered for at John’s house earlier. “I can’t believe some of the stuff you people watch for fun!”

“’You people’?” Brooke teased him, in the middle of brushing her teeth in the en-suite bathroom. “Don’t give me that crap, you were right there with us.”

“Hey I’m here for the ride, man, but you guys are the ones coming up with this shit.”

Jesse started to take off his shirt, and John ducked a little lower so that he couldn’t see. He didn’t have any right to watch that until Jesse knew how he felt. He heard something flop to the ground, and a dragging sound, like a pillow sliding across the floor. 

“Okay, I’m ready for bed,” Jesse called to her. John’s heart sank. He was going to sleep here, in her room?

“Okay okay I’m on it,” Brooke replied, her footsteps crossing the room. There was a strange, softly electrical sound. “Sleep tight.”

John was puzzled, what he was hearing didn’t form a mental picture he could make sense of. Cautiously, he raised his face over the windowsill again, and stared in shock at what he saw. 

Both Jesse and Brooke were dressed in pajamas, settling in to get comfortable with their respective books and handheld gaming devices, by lamplight. Brooke was sitting up in her bed. Jesse was on the floor, in the middle of an oversized pet bed, surrounded by a complex circle of glowing runes etched into the hardwood. As John watched, Jesse shrugged his shoulders, without taking his eyes off the page he was reading, and let out a satisfied sigh, as one might when taking off their shoes at the end of a long day.

Then he melted.

At least, that’s what John thought he was seeing at first. The familiar, round features of Jesse’s face and body sagged, slipped, and rearranged, then suddenly solidified into something different. Harder. Leaner. Sharply sexy, like a supermodel. John didn’t like it, not at all the way he liked the Jesse he knew. He scarcely even registered that the man had also grown a pair of horns.

Jesse blinked, and stared over his book into the middle distance, looking very confused. Brooke noticed. 

“Jesse? Is something wrong?” 

“I…?” Even Jesse’s voice was slightly different. Colder. 

Suddenly, he sneezed. In that violent spasm, his body changed again. He filled out slightly, softening at the edges, with a fine down of ginger hair covering his previously bare chest. When he spoke again, his voice was as warm and lovable and John had always known it. 

“Somebody else can see me,” Jesse said, panicked. “Somebody didn’t like the way I looked!”

“WHAT?!?” Brooke hissed, throwing down her gameboy. She dashed to the window, and threw it open, catching John before he could do more than duck behind an entirely insufficient rosebush. “John??? WHAT THE HELL?”

“What the FUCK have you done to Jesse?” John bellowed back, accusing. “Is that even him?”

“John’s out there?” Jesse called from inside. “Oh great.”

“Yes, John, that’s Jesse,” Brooke sighed, brushing her hair back. “Come in here, we’ll explain.”

Warily, John climbed through the open window and sat down at the small computer desk along the near wall of Brooke’s room. Jesse had jumped to his feet–strange, misjointed, animal feet–and seemed to be leaning against an invisible glass wall, craning his neck to see. 

“That,” John commented, “Is a lot to explain.”

The explanation, though outlandish, proved to be fairly simple. As a lonely child, left to her own devices in a large empty house in the country for far too long at a time, Brooke had come across a very strange book. In playing with it, she’d accidentally performed a slightly broken summoning ritual, and had managed to lure a demon out of hell and place him under her control. He was able to change his shape to appear human and had to obey her commands, so, with a little careful guidance, he’d become her only friend. Slowly, he’d come to enjoy living among mortals, and developed his own identity as a person. The end result was Jesse. Brooke’s constant companion. Human by day, confined to a circle of protection (where he could safely be himself) at night. 

“Now that I’ve had a chance to actually look around this world, I don’t want to hurt anybody here any more than she wants me to,” Jesse explained. “Honestly I appreciate all the rules she’s given me. I can’t break her commands, so sometimes that’s the only thing helping me keep my nature in check.”

“What….what would you do to people, if there was nothing to stop you?” John wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was too enthralled by this surreal experience to think about his questions before asking. 

Jesse winced. “I’m. I’m pretty hungry, all the time.”

“You’d EAT people?” Welp. Crush canceled.

“Oh no, no, not the people. I. Uh. Brooke just says I’m not allowed…uh…”

“He’s an incubus,” Brooke supplied. “And don’t look at me like that, no I did not intentionally summon a sex demon when I was ten. At first I just ordered him to stop trying to touch people like a weirdo and then I got old enough to understand what rape is and REALLY ordered him not to touch people–”

“Whoa, whoa, hold the fucking phone,” John broke in. “Okay, yes, good job not letting demons perv on schoolchildren, but are you telling me that this fellow hasn’t been allowed any of the thing he lives on for almost twenty years?”

“Well, it’s not quite that simple?” Jesse began, “Like, actually having sex myself works best, but just being around any sort of sexual energy counts. Uh. Sam moving in was a big bonus. I mean, they go to his room and leave me here, but it’s close enough. He’s fully aware of me, by the way. Even being in a room with somebody who’s having sexual thoughts gives me a little taste,” Jesse giggled and gave John a look. “You’ve been quite helpful yourself, there.”

John blushed. “You don’t get to see the thoughts, do you?” he whispered sheepishly.

Brooke laughed. “Why, what have you been thinking about?”

“Him,” John nodded toward Jesse. Well, he’d come over to confess in the first place anyway. 

“Oh my fuck that must be why yours tasted so good,” Jesse mumbled, staring at him. 

Curious to see what would happen, John stared back and imagined Jesse as he was now, still slightly leaner that his human form and distinctly demonic, on his knees on the carpet, gently sucking him off. He pictured himself with one hand on the back of Jesse’s head, and the other carefully fondling one of the demon’s horns, guiding him, moaning softly in encouragement, thrilling at the sensation of a demon’s tongue caressing his cock…

In real life, Jesse’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, rapt, until his face bumped into the invisible barrier sent up by the runes on the floor. He flattened his palms against it and leaned on them, tilted his head back, drew a deep breath through his nose and licked his lips. 

“I do not know what you’re thinking about but it smells amaaaazing,” the demon whispered in a sing-song voice.

“Ooooooooookaaaaaayyyy,” Brooke interrupted. “So like, are we cool here?”

John abandoned his fantasy with a sigh and a frustrated whimper from Jesse. “I suppose? Jesse is…real, right? The person I’ve known, really exists? He’s more than a mask?”

“Absolutely. Jesse has been my best friend for years, and he’s been the same guy. That’s who he really is, once you teach him how to people.”

“Good,” John steeled himself. His declaration hardly seemed like anything strange, compared to this. “Because I came over here to tell you lot that I was in love with him.”

The reaction was not what he’d been expecting. Jesse looked shocked and hopeful, but Brooke looked furious.

“Jesse what the fuck, I told you not to!” she shouted at him. “I specifically ordered you, how did you even?!”

“I didn’t!” Jesse defended himself urgently, “I never did anything, I didn’t even flirt! He’s not under my thrall he just likes me! You know I couldn’t have used any of my power on him, you won’t let me use it! He likes me!” Jesse turned to stare at John in wonderment, breathing fast, “He likes me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” John said, baffled and worried.

“Be careful, John, he can put spells on people,” Brooke warned him, “He makes them want him.”

“No I can’t!” Jesse protested. “You ordered me not to and now I can’t, I haven’t been able to in years, you know I can’t!”

“Brooke, don’t shout at him. I’m an adult and I know what I want. And I’m not just talking about, like, climbing all over him, here, I like him. I wanted to date, not just fuck.”

“Oh no, John, that’s a bad idea,” she insisted. “Do not fuck the sex demon. I don’t know what will happen. Giving demons what they want is usually a bad idea, though. Anything could happen.”

Jesse whined.

“You shut up,” she told him, “I know you can’t lie to me but I also know you can’t be forced to tell me the truth about some things, and I’m not convinced I know everything here. John, don’t do it.”

“Just order him not to hurt me.”

“Jesse, don’t hurt John,” she reeled off automatically. “But that’s not a guarantee. Jesse, don’t steal John’s soul. That’s not a guarantee either. Hoe don’t do it.”

John gave her a look. It was beginning to look more and more like Jesse was being treated unfairly here, starved, trapped, and robbed of the freedom to make his own choices.

“Jesse,” John said speculatively, still staring her down, “How do I get you out of that circle?”

“You just have to take my han–”

“DON’T TELL HIM,” Brooke tried to cut him off, but too late.

Quite deliberately, John stepped over to the circle and reached in. From this side, there was no resistance. Jesse placed a hand in his, and got to his feet. With John to lead him he was able to step out of the circle, and the spell was deactivated. 

“Hoe. Don’t. Do it.” Brooke repeated. 

Jesse cozied up to his side, still dressed only in pajama shorts. He gave a soft, questioning whine. 

“Nice talking with you, Brooke,” John said evenly. “I think I’ll be going home now.”

“No GOD DAMMIT okay look. Don’t go home? Just use Jesse’s room, if you’re determined. Get it over with and let’s see what happens, but do it where you have some backup. At least me and Sam know what he is, maybe we can help if everything catches on fire or something.”

Taken slightly aback, John looked to Jesse for support. He’d only been intending to take Jesse back to his place and talk some more, figure out if he wanted to date too, see where the night may lead. Maybe cuddle. When he looked into Jesse’s eyes up close, though, he could see that they were slightly sunken; he had that faintly gaunt, stretched look of someone who hasn’t eaten properly in a very long time. 

“That should work,” John croaked. “Lead the way, my friend.”

He’d meant that last bit for Jesse, but Brooke escorted them dutifully to the empty bedroom, then left to tell Sam what had happened. John locked the door behind her.

“This, uh, this is okay with you, right?” John asked, hesitant.

“John I like you so much,” Jesse assured him, gazing adoringly into his eyes and clinging to the front of his shirt. “You’re fucking awesome and I love it when we get to hang out with you, I never dreamed…I never dreamed any human would just LIKE me just because I’m me but I really never would have thought…? Yes. It’s okay with me. It’s very okay with me.”

“That’s good,” John smiled, and leaned in to kiss him with butterflies in his stomach.

Jesse flinched away. 

“What’s the matter?” John asked, hurt. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but say so.”

“No, I want–” 

Jesse looked more confused than John was. He reached for the human’s face, but pulled his hand back in a sudden jerk. Squinting suspiciously, he held John by the waist and gently leaned into him, sliding his hands down the man’s sides. John enjoyed that very much, but at the exact moment that they would have been pressed together crotch-to-crotch, with Jesse’s hands on John’s ass, the demon jumped back with a yelp, like he’d been burned.

“Oh fucking hell, Brooke!” Jesse exclaimed. “Hold on.”

Jesse flung the door open and marched off down the hall. There was some muffled conversation, and in a few moments he returned and kissed John squarely on the mouth. 

“That’s better,” he purred, moving to nibble on John’s neck and let the human catch his breath. “Too many standing orders not to try to get intimate with people. I had to get her to make exceptions for you.”

“O-okay,” John gasped. “Shall we, then?”

Belatedly, John noticed that most of his clothing had already been removed. 

“Sorry, sorry, don’t mean to rush,” Jesse chided himself, “Kind of hungry.”

“That’s okay,” It was difficult to tell whether it was his own long-standing desire for his friend or Jesse’s uncanny skill at touching him just right that had John’s brain so foggy with pleasure already. Probably both.

John had intended to top, to take the active role and give pleasure to Jesse as best he could, but the demon’s touch absolutely melted him and Jesse took over without missing a beat. In moments John was lying naked on the bed beneath his friend, utterly helpless and loving it. Kisses covered him. Fingers, palms and tongue found all his most sensitive places. He hardly noticed he was being opened up until there was suddenly a cock inside him. A smooth, slick, perfect cock, filling him and stretching him just enough, and his beautiful friend lying gently on top of him.

“How’re you doing?” Jesse panted, stroking John’s cheek.

“Incredible,” he gasped back. “Don’t stop.”

Jesse moved with almost exaggerated slowness to begin, and one of John’s few coherent thoughts was that Brooke must have ordered him to be extremely careful. Still, the demon took him with a tender intensity that any human lover would have been hard-pressed to match. John could barely do more than moan and hang on. Nothing mattered beyond the rhythm of Jesse’s hips plunging in and out between his legs. He didn’t care that he was still at Brooke’s house, or that she and Sam knew exactly what he was doing with their housemate right now and were probably even listening at the door, and he definitely did not give a fuck that this lover had come to him straight from the bowels of hell. What Jesse was made no difference. Who he was was all that mattered. He was Jesse.

And he was fucking amazing at sex.

“Mmmm, how long would you like to last, precious?” Jesse sighed in his ear after a bit.

John laughed breathlessly. “How precise can you be?” he teased.

“Give me a number of thrusts,” Jesse boasted, smiling wickedly, “You’ll see.”

“Five,” John fired back, sarcastically. He was having a great time, but there was no way he’d be finished that quickly.

“One,” Jesse began counting each stroke into John, “Two, three, four…five!”

John gasped, and cried out. Ferocious, spasming pleasure ripped through him, leaving him spent and weak in Jesse’s arms.

“O…oh…” he panted, “You were serious.”

“I told you,” Jesse said smugly, nuzzling against his face and slowing almost to a halt. “Can I come too?”

“Of course.”

“How many more thrusts do I get?” he asked coyly.

John thought for a moment. “Three.”

“What, are you still trying to beat me at this game?”

“Now you get one.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Jesse pulled back until he was almost completely out, then slowly, steadily forced his entire length straight up John’s ass, trembling all the way. Just as the human’s flesh consumed him to the base, he whimpered “One!”, and convulsed in orgasm.

“Holy shit,” John panted, stroking the demon’s hair as he lay recovering. “What if I’d said zero?”

“I would’ve come for you on the spot.”

“Can I still say zero?”

Jesse laughed. “Now you’re fucking with me.”

“You have zero seconds to come for me again.”

Orgasm rippled through Jesse a second time before John had even stopped talking. 

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my fuck stop that I’m out of shape.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. If you get me in practice again I’ll be able to take a lot but…go easy on me for now, please. That’s the first time I’ve been laid in like twenty years.”

“Poor baby,” John cooed, rearranging them both into a position more fit for cuddling. “I could do with a rest as well.”

“Mmm, yeah, hold me,” Jesse agreed, snuggling up, “Lemme stay here and soak up all that extra yummy we made.”

John merely chuckled softly, and drifted off to sleep in his arms.

***************************************************************

“Wake up! John, wake up!”

Blearily, John opened his eyes and tried to focus on the people standing over him. Sam stood off to the side, with a baseball bat over his shoulder, poised to strike. There was a crucifix tied to its handle. Nearer to the bed was Brooke, who’d shaken him awake by the shoulder. Still in bed beside him but up on his knees, there was Jesse. All three looked absolutely terrified.

“Whahappen?” John managed, rubbing his face to help himself wake up. “Is everything on fire?”

Brooke sighed with relief. “Okay. You’re not dead, that’s a step. But when we came in here, I told Jesse to get back to his circle.”

“And?”

“He didn’t.”

“So?”

“I didn’t have to,” Jesse put in. He had both hands over his mouth. He looked more frightened than any of them. “You don’t understand. Brooke told me to do something and I didn’t have to do it.”

Realization began to sink in. “Your rules…?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared to find out. They were really good rules if I break one I’ll hurt somebody.” Jesse was working himself up into a real panic. 

“Okay, easy, calm down Jesse, let’s think this through,” John began, trying to get his brain up and running. 

At once, Jesse took a deep breath, lowered his hands, and sat back on the bed. He looked utterly relaxed. 

Dead, shocked silence settled over the room.

Three faces turned to look incredulously at John.

“Oh, no,” Brooke whispered.

“Jesse…” John said hesitantly, “…go to your circle?”

Like a puppet jerked roughly by its strings, Jesse practically flew off the bed and stumbled rapidly out the door and down the hall. Brooke and Sam chased after him, and so did John, after he’d grabbed his underpants off the floor. 

When he arrived in Brooke’s room, Jesse was seated once more in the center of his pet bed, sealed off by glowing runes. Brooke and Sam were on her bed, looking unamused.

“So that’s what you couldn’t tell me,” Brooke was saying. “I knew there was something. I knew something had to go wrong.”

“Honestly, it’s been so long I forgot,” Jesse tried to defend himself. “And that original summoning was so janked up, who knows what’s going to work.”

“Am I understanding this correctly?” John broke in, yawning. “Did I just take control of Jesse?”

“Yes,” Brooke said grudgingly. “It makes sense. Ordinarily people who summon sex demons have sex with them, so I guess that’s the last step in the ritual. Thanks a fucking lot.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You stole my best friend,” she went on, angrily, “He’d been my responsibility and my rock since I was a little kid and you took him.”

“He took me, actually.”

“No sex jokes. You know what I mean,” She wiped her face with such force one would think it was the tears she was mad at. “You BETTER be god damn in love with him and not just looking for a good time because so help me if you hurt him–”

“I wouldn’t hurt him, Brooke, I love him.”

“You don’t understand,” she insisted. “It’s not like being with a regular person. You have to watch everything you say, because he has to obey you. You can’t ever slip and tell him to do something stupid, he’ll really do it. And what if you get tired of him? What happens if you’re together for a while and you fall out of love? Will he be safe with you? Will you give him mean-spirited orders? Will you banish him?”

“PLEASE DON’T BANISH ME,” Jesse squeaked suddenly. “Please don’t. I don’t want to leave. It’s not, I’m not in any danger back home but once I go back there, this is over. I’m not ready. Don’t send me back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” John dropped to his knees outside the circle to look him in the eyes. “I won’t. I promise. If anything ever happens and we can’t be together anymore, I’ll find a way to give you back to Brooke. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Welp,” Brooke said, resigned. She picked up a massive spiral notebook from her desk, dogeared and jammed full with extra loose sheets, and plopped it down weightily on her own lap. “I kept a written log of all the rules I gave him, in case I needed to know   
any of them later. You’ll need to read him these before it’s safe to leave him unattended.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”


	2. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was originally titled "Titles are hard and I'm in a hurry shoo" but I think we'll call it "Breaking and Entering" now. It's not nearly as violent as the name may sound.
> 
> Mostly involves cats being inscrutable.

John did not toss and turn in his sleep. He’d broken the habit, for fear of injuring anything small and furry. Yet, in his own, perfectly-still way, he’d slept terribly. Long before his alarm was due to go off, he gave it up for a bad job and grumpily rolled out of bed, cautiously dipped his feet into his slippers (wary of presents) and shuffled off to the closet. He retrieved a fluffy bathrobe and set out for the kitchen. An arduous trek, when faced at four in the morning.

He grumbled slightly to himself as he walked; nothing too coherent, only a general bemoaning. Slowly, a piece of information made its way through the fog in his brain to the forefront. He’d been quite alone in the room when he woke up. 

“Damnable creatures,” he said aloud to the house, “You lot are supposed to keep me company, that’s what I adopted you for. How much un…ungratefullness,” he was fairly sure that wasn’t a word, but he was still many meters too far from the coffee machine to care, “how much ungratefullness can you fit in those little bodies, eh? Plenty, apparently.”

Crabby and vengeful, he schlumped around the corner into the living room, where he expected to find them. He gave the light switch a hearty whack it didn’t deserve, and squinted in the general direction of the couch. 

Ah yes, there they were. Three cats and a dog, all lined up neatly on the sofa, snuggled into a mound of blankets. He raised an accusing finger and opened his mouth to tell them off some more for their continuing ungratefulness.

The heap of blankets shifted, rising higher and twisting before settling back down, with a tuft of red hair now visible above the far edge. The animals, awakened but unconcerned, moved only enough to regain their balance before curling up again. John leapt behind the doorframe.

Someone was in his house!! How the fuck did they get in??

“Unnnnngghhhhhh……whyyyyyyyy……” a voice moaned from the living room. “Why lightssssss……Eriiiiiiiic you’re the woooooorst……”

John glanced frantically up and down the hall. He spotted something he thought he could use, and groped for it while the voice continued.

“If I’m not allowed to crash here anymore just saaaaay so…..don’t be so….don’t like……lock doors and, and turn on lights early you fuck, what did I do to–”

The stranger stopped short at a tap on his shoulder, and turned bleary red eyes to find the business end of a five-iron held shakily an inch from his nose.

“Eric?” he asked it.

“How did you get in here.”

“Through the window?”

John risked glancing away at the window over the sofa. There was a roughly fist-sized hole in the glass just over the locking mechanism, but it had been re-closed from inside. 

“I was gonna pay for it,” the intruder mumbled guiltily. “What happened to the key you leave out for me? And when did you move the couch over here? And why is this blanket so….lumpy….uh….”

The intruder’s eyes widened as one of the “lumps” crawled up onto his shoulder and started grooming his hair. He stared in terrified confusion at the black-spotted calico for several moments. When he rolled over to get a better look at her, she moved to lick his beard instead. 

“I’m,” the stranger started, afraid to oped his mouth very wide in case of accidentally french-kissing a cat, “I’m still kind of drunk and I lost my glasses. Is this Eric’s house?”

“No. I don’t know any Eric. Ripley, stop that,” John used his golf club to lift the cat away from the man’s face. That was supposed be be _his_ good-morning beard-licking. “Who the fuck is Eric. Better question, who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Jesse,” the man said, leaning away as a determined Ripley attempted to climb over the club and resume grooming. “Eric is my friend. He lives closer to the bus stop than I do so he leaves a key out for me for if I get super drunk and don’t want to walk all the way to my place. Then I buy him breakfast. At like noon. He doesn’t have cats. You have a lot of cats.”

“Three isn’t that many,” John rankled slightly. His sister was quite fond of calling him a crazy cat lady, and it had left him sensitive. 

“Four?” Jesse squinted down the sofa.

“Three. Artemis is a cocker spaniel,” he tilted his head slightly. “You really are blind as shit, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Look, I’m sorryyy augh cat why,” Jesse wriggled and stretched, but couldn’t get away from Ripley’s persistent tongue. In desperation, he hauled the edge of the blanket up over his head, muffling the rest of his words but shielding him from this puzzling animal. “I’m sorry I broke into your house!” he shouted from his shelter. “I must have gotten off at the wrong stop, I swear I counted the right number of houses, I went the right way I know I did!”

John lowered the club and leaned on it, quite baffled by the whole scene. It sounded like the truth, but more than that, it was his pets that tempted him to believe the stranger was harmless. Sure, Othello was a real people-cat, he’d form up into a puddle of luxurious long grey fur on anybody who came through the door and purr them into submission, and the same could usually be said for Jaina, but Artemis? Artemis had her own bed, and it was a cold day in hell when she’d actually spend the night at John’s feet. Usually only if he was very sick, now that he thought of it. Maybe drunk looked like sick to her. 

And Ripley. Ripley was his special girl. She didn’t like anybody. Ripley was one of those cats whose big heart belonged only to her owner, and everyone else could go to hell. She slept in the center of his chest every night, followed him dutifully around the house, and immediately vanished any time company came over. 

Now he literally couldn’t pry her off of this man’s face. John heaved a sigh. 

“Alright, look, you’re paying for the window, but you don’t seem together enough to head home yet, so just….I’m going to go make some coffee, and put some paper over that hole so the cats don’t get any ideas. I’ll head back and hang out in my office for a while and wake you up later, then we can deliver you to this Eric and get you sorted.”

“Thank you,” Jesse called from under the blanket with sheepish gratitude. “Can you take the licky-cat with you?”

“Rippy! Treats!”

All four animals scrambled to their feet in unison and swarmed over to John. Jesse let out a high-pitched yelp, as Jaina had been perched dangerously near crotch-level. John laughed at him, and shuffled away with his herd.


	3. Services Rendered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One time I got the mental image of Jesse Cox as an expensive hooker stuck in my brain and it wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. So here you go. Set in a minor AU wherein prostitution is basically just a job and nobody minds. 
> 
> Surprisingly non-graphic considering the subject, but rather suggestive.

The instant the doorbell chimed, it was answered. John had been waiting for this moment. Everything was in order. Everything was perfect. He opened the doors to the private elevator landing and gave a broad and gracious smile to his guest.

“Good evening, Mr. Bain,” the man outside greeted him. He was dressed modestly, in a light sweater and neatly-pressed slacks, just as John had requested. More important than the outfit, though, was that the agency had sent him the _man_ he’d ordered.

“Welcome, Jesse, welcome,” John extended a hand and lead his guest into the sunken living room, guiding him by the elbow. Yes, the new lightbulbs he’d put in the lamps glittered just perfectly from that resplendent auburn beard. “Have a seat, make yourself at home, may I bring you a drink?”

Jesse chuckled softly. “I practically feel like I am at home, you bring me up here so often. Nothing too big or too strong, I’ve got a long night tonight. If I know you you’ve got some lovely sherry open.”

“Sherry it is,” John left him on the sofa and bustled off across the penthouse. In moments, he returned with a tray bearing not only two glasses of very expensive sherry but also an assortment of light appetizers, including a number of rare cured meats that he knew to be Jesse’s favorites.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, John, you don’t have to spoil me like this!” Jesse laughed, taking a glass and a slice of brioche despite his protest.

“Just because someone works for me doesn’t mean I don’t owe them a few courtesies, and that goes double for independent contractors. You’re under no obligation to accept my custom, after all,” the host countered, helping himself to a cracker and just a touch of caviar. “And you are _so_ good at what you do.”

Jesse tilted his glass in acceptance, to fill in the conversation until he could finish chewing.

“I know what you’ll say, but I’m obligated to remind you: you’ve booked two hours. Are you certain this is what you want to do with our time?”

John smiled smugly. “You know the drill, my friend. About an hour for socializing and light foreplay, about an hour in bed, and I’d appreciate any extra time at the end be spent just cuddling.”

Jesse chuckled again, slightly into his sherry, and shook his head in disbelief. He smacked his lips after taking a sip, and gazed into the delicate crystal glass, watching the rainbows.

“Spoiling me rotten,” the escort said with a smile.

********************************************************

Nearly two hours later, it was Jesse who was smiling smugly, lying on his side in one of the most luxurious beds he had the privilege of visiting often, with his arms around the heaving chest of his satisfied client. He nuzzled gently against the back of John’s neck, remaining un-demandingly silent until the other man could regain his composure.

“You…are…the best, you'rethefuckingbest, did you know that?” John panted eventually, gathering one of the escort’s hands into his and pressing it to the spot over his pounding heart.

“I’ve been told that a few times,” Jesse replied coyly. _I’ve also been trained not to take anything you say right now too seriously,_ he thought silently. _But feel free to flatter me as much as you like. I know how you love to spoil me_.

“I need…I want you all the time,” John went on, massaging Jesse’s hand in his.

The professional laughed softly. “Shall we bump it up to once a week?”

“Meant something more than that, even.”

Jesse’s smile faded slightly.

“Mister Bain,” he said, with a gently warning tone, “You shouldn’t try to ask me any important questions right now, you know that.”

“No this…before you leave. Been meaning to. Need to ask you.”

“Take a minute and get your breath,” Jesse cautioned. Shit. Shit shit shit. Escorts have to walk a very delicate line: make them love what you do, but not enough that they think they love _you_.

“Have…have you ever considered…”

Jesse braced for it, practicing his go-to phrases for gently saying no in his mind. He’d been through this a few times.

“…going into private practice?”

Jesse blinked, taken unawares.

“I’m sorry? Is that a euphemism for…?"

"What? No, like it sounds,” John was starting to speak normally again. He scooched away a little so that he could roll over and face Jesse. “A private contract. You’d be on my payroll, making a salary. You could even live in my house. It’s done sometimes. What do you think?”

Jesse stared back like a deer in the headlights, all the carefully-practiced explanations on why it was a terrible idea to jump straight from a paid arrangement to a marriage dying on his lips. THIS was a new question. He’d had dozens of marriage proposals, from men and women both, but nobody had ever tried to hire him for their exclusive pleasure.

“Um,” he finally said, intelligently.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked right now I suppose, I know that’s bad form,” John apologized. He looked away, slightly embarrassed.

Jesse cleared his throat. “Well. We, um. We discourage our clients from bringing up anything important right after, since, you know, if I’ve done my job right, you may be in a slightly altered state of mind. So. Normally I’d encourage you to sleep on a question like that.”

“Normally?”

“Normally it wouldn’t be a question I’m so tempted to say yes to.”

“Oh.”

“Which makes me think we both need to sleep on it.”

“Okay?”

“And I’m not scheduled to get much sleep tonight,” Jesse sighed, conflicted. “I need a minute to think. I might need to call my agency.”

****************************************************************************

Fifteen minutes later, John peered around the corner into the sunken living room, curiosity getting the better of his manners. Spying on one’s guests was a dreadful thing to do. So he mustn’t get caught, obviously.

“…I know, I know, I just got carried away,” Jesse was saying into his cell phone. The muffled, electronic reply was too quiet to hear from John’s vantage point. Jesse laughed. “No fucking thank you,” he kidded back to the person on the other end, “Been there done that, my body is too valuable now. I’m on ice and heat for the rest of the night. Put me on the bench, coach. Man down. Ha. Okay. You too.”

John quickly scurried back around the corner, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He made it there just seconds before Jesse appeared in the doorway, holding his phone and dressed in a borrowed bathrobe.

“Welp,” the escort said, “I called in sick for the rest of the night. If anybody asks, I pulled my groin. You were in the mood for weird positions.”

John smiled nervously. “Does that mean you’re giving my offer serious consideration, then?”

Jesse ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “I want to,” he mused, “It’s not a possibility I had adequately planned for. Are you free tomorrow? We should talk about what exactly a job like this would entail."

"Haven’t got the time until…Thursday, at least,” John sucked on his teeth. He didn’t want to lose this chance just by letting Jesse’s interest fade with time.

“Plan for that, then, I guess,” Jesse said with a shrug, moving to collect his clothes.

“Wait,” John stopped him. “What if, and I’ll understand if you want more pay for this right now, but, what about…over breakfast? If we ate early enough, I could still get to my meetings on time.”

Jesse slowly straightened back up, raising an eyebrow at him. “Did you just offer to pay for a whole night? You remember how much I cost, right?”

“Of course I do. Believe me, you’re worth it.”

Jesse thought for a while. “I guess I do have clothes for the morning, and stuff,” he used his toes to prod at the small duffle bag he always brought to work. “Eh. I’ll cut you a steep discount, unless you actually want to do the do some more. Sleep is cheap. Don’t write the check to my agency, though, or they’ll know I wasn’t out sick.”

****************************************************************************************

As a skilled and valued employee, Jesse was allowed a certain trial period to decide on the offer. Having once won him to their ranks, his agency was in no hurry to say “no you can’t do things, stop doing things, you’re out.” Despite the growing likelihood of his accepting the contract and leaving regardless, they were eager to maintain good relations both with Jesse and John, as a highly effective employee and a highly lucrative client, respectively. Thus, the escort was grudgingly allowed a month’s vacation, to experiment with the idea.

A month that John was eager to take full advantage of.

Jesse’s first surprise, which he realized later should not have shocked him at all, was that “live in my house” did not mean “live in the penthouse where we’ve always met”. Jesse should have known the place was only a convenient pied-a-terre for doing business in town, but the apartment was well appointed enough that he’d believed a man rich enough to be part of his clientele might live there full-time. Perhaps he’d underestimated John’s net worth.

The first day of his trial month began promptly with having himself and his luggage picked up from his own downtown apartment in two separate cars: a plush towncar for him, a small moving van for his things. He was hardly bringing everything he owned, of course, this was only a trial run, but John had seen fit to over-accommodate as usual.

The towncar ferried him far out of the city and into the lush upstate greenery, where only the truly wealthy lived. Jesse sat back patiently, trying not to be too dazzled by the opulent treatment. It wasn’t as if he’d never ridden in a limousine before, in his line of work. Only normally he was more focused on the other passengers and maintaining his balance despite the car’s unpredictable movements, and less able to sit back and appreciate the setting. Having some clothing between his skin and the leather seats made everything feel very different. It sort of drew the line between enjoying the luxury and _being_ the luxury.

When they finally arrived, having cruised smoothly up a long, winding drive and straight up to the base of a regal marble staircase flanked with carved lions and leading to a tastefully opulent door, John was waiting for them. Jesse stared up through the tinted windows for a moment, taking him in (metaphorically, for a change). If he’d had to make a list of favorite clients, John would have been very near the top. Being guaranteed one of his favorites, rather than rolling the dice on who he’d be called on to service every night, could turn out to be a real plus.

Smiling to himself, Jesse stepped out of the car to greet the sharp-dressed man awaiting him halfway up the steps. Puzzlingly, John’s face fell the moment he laid eyes on him.

“…Hi?” Jesse faltered in his greeting, slightly hurt. “Is something wrong?”

“Your clothes,” John said with a frown, slowly coming down the stairs, “It’s…not that important I guess, but you know what I like by now, I thought you would’ve dressed for me.”

Jesse paused to look down at himself. He was dressed pretty casually, he supposed, but today was meant to be more orientation than business. Blue jeans, bright orange sneakers, a graphic tee and black hoodie had seemed appropriate enough this morning.  
He looked back up and shrugged apologetically. “All the outfits I’d wear to work belonged to my agency, man. These are my clothes. This is me off-duty. I can dress any which-way you want, if that’s part of the deal, but I’ll need to get the clothes first. Maybe you should come shopping with me,” Jesse suggested, the idea dawning on him just then, “That way you can pick whatever you wanna look at.”

John stopped dead in his tracks on the last step, still looking slightly down at Jesse. His cheeks were suddenly rosy-pink. “I could dress you myself?"

Jesse shrugged again. "Sure, why not? Just, exercise a little restraint, my funds aren’t as limitless as yours.”

“Oh, no no no no,” John corrected, wetting his lips, “If you’ll agree to wear what I choose, I will buy you an entire wardrobe, top to bottom. Yours to keep, even if you don’t take the job. You, sir, should look as good as you are.”

  
“Okay,” Jesse laughed, glancing down at himself again, “Not quite sure if compliment or insult, but definitely useful information about you. C'mon then buddy, let’s see this house.”

With that, Jesse mounted the stairs himself, lightly placing a hand against the small of John’s back to bring him along.

**************************************************************

The mansion itself was not altogether surprising, though it slightly exceeded the expectations Jesse had worked up on the way here. Little details like the built-in cabana bar next to the pool, complete with underwater barstools, really gave the place an above-and-beyond feel.

Jesse was not truly startled, though, until the last stop of the tour.

“Define ‘private quarters’,” the escort asked cautiously, following John to a last set of doors near the west end of the house.

“Absolutely exactly as it sounds,” John assured him cheerfully. He flung the doors open with gusto, and lead his guest into a small, cozy sitting area. “Just a small suite of rooms, but they would be entirely yours. A little study, a bedroom, an en-suite bath, and this living area. The cleaning staff would attend them per your instructions and on your schedule only, and I personally would never set foot here unless specifically invited. I would expect you to make yourself available within reason, but if you wish to be 'off the clock’, this space will always be sacred.”

“Wow,” Jesse’s eyebrows were arched to their upper limit. “That’s kind of amazing.”

“It seemed like a reasonable accommodation,” John said, pleased that the idea had been well received. Time to play the trump card. “Before you get too settled in, though, I have an additional invitation to extend.”

Jesse looked up from inspecting one of the overstuffed armchairs. John retrieved a sleeve of tickets and brochures from inside his sport coat.

“Beginning tomorrow, by your leave, I’d like to take you on a little trip. I travel frequently, and for the money I’m offering I’d like you to come along as often as possible. This will give us a chance to practice traveling together, although what we’re talking about here is actually a true vacation, not a business trip,” John extended the papers, offering them to Jesse. “Would you come and spend a few days in the Bahamas with me?”

***************************************************************************************

  
Three days later. _Three fucking days,_ John seethed. _I barely even got a taste._ He clenched his jaw, trying to block out the incessant beeping. Though, he reflected, wishing for an end to that beeping was not a very good thing to do. He didn’t wish it would stop. He wished there was no reason for it to be going.

The wealthy Brit glared down, huddling more tightly, crossing his arms and legs more firmly and mentally cursing this shitty folding chair. Tendons stood out on his neck and shoulders from the tension. His sandal flapped against his heel rhythmically as he fidgeted, unable to get comfortable.

These tropical hospitals were never really built for comfort.

While he was contemplating the many, many changes he would make to this place if he were to have it renovated, the doctor finally returned.

“Thank you for your patience, Mr. Bain,” the man said, sounding slightly out of breath. The staff had been rushing to meet this VIP’s demands. “I can assure you his condition is stable, and the effects should begin to dissipate soon. I know you’ve already spoken with the EMT’s, but can you tell me again how this happened?”

John spared a sneering glance for the pallid redhead in the bed beside his chair. An oxygen mask covered most of Jesse’s face, and a number of monitors and tubes were strapped to him, including the heart monitor that had so annoyingly marked the seconds until the doctor’s return.

“We were snorkeling,” John began. His voice was thick with disdain. “Or I was. He was apparently busy forgetting how to breathe. Funny how that can happen when you’re high out of your mind.”

“His blood tests did show there was something in his system, test results for _what_ should be back in a few hours,” the doctor agreed. “What led you to conclude he was intoxicated?”

John shook his head and sighed in agitation, looking away from the soggy waste of money struggling to stay alive next to him. “I don’t know why I didn’t spot it sooner. He was definitely acting strange on the boat, though. He’d been a bit jumpy for most of the trip, but always very eager for everything, very into everything….it wasn’t until the boat that I saw him on a low swing. He just got sort of listless. Way, way too relaxed. He was wearing sunglasses, though, so I didn’t see his eyes until we fished him out. You don’t get pupils like that out in the tropical sun unless you’ve done some very illegal things to your blood.”

John’s nostrils flared. It wasn’t unusual, among people with a lot of money and a lot of leisure time. A combination of uppers and downers, from something as innocuous as caffeine in the morning and over-the-counter sleeping pills at night, to something as truly destructive as cocaine at sunup and heroine at sunset. God knows what Jesse had actually been taking. Maybe originally it had only been to help adjust his sleep schedule to his line of work. Maybe it had been to help him cope with selling his body to strangers. It couldn’t be that unusual, for an escort. And John could never have seen it, before he started spending entire days with Jesse. He only would have seen Jesse under the effects of the uppers, never witnessing a full cycle. He wished he’d known before he’d shelled out the cash for the plane tickets, hotels, and good god, the _clothes_ ….

“Well, I must say,” the doctor went on, interrupting his thoughts, “Your initial resuscitation attempts were very successful, I must commend you for taking the time to become adequately trained. He’s certainly out of the woods now. His substance abuse habits should be addressed at first convenience, however.”

“They will be,” John promised, dismissing the doctor with a nod. He was only waiting for Jesse to wake up, now, to leave him with a parting gift. The escort was good, whatever intolerable habits he may have. _Rehab may not be as glamorous as the contract I was offering,_ John mused gravely, _but it’ll do you more good._

************************************  
_Earlier…_

Jesse had done his best to keep up a brave front, no matter what. An escort is well trained in the art of keeping a pleasant smile on his lips, an easy laugh in his throat, and a reassuring touch always in his hands. He was less well trained, however, in the art of keeping the ocean out of his sight at all times without it being obvious what he was doing. Besides which, just looking away didn’t seem to be enough. Even the sound of the waves had the small hairs at the back of his neck standing up constantly, and something else just as conspicuously never standing up ever, so he had to be extra strategic about when, where, and how he delivered pleasure. As long as he stayed out of the water, though, he could get through it. It would all be worth it to show John what a good travel companion he could be, and maybe next time they took a true vacation he’d get a chance to vote on the destination.

He just had to stay out of the water.

Currently the pair of them were sharing a little stretch of private beach, and Jesse was making use of one of his most foolproof methods to keep from seeing the ocean. Sand and blanket shifted under his knees as he adjusted his angle. The soft terrain posed unique challenges of its own, but nothing he couldn’t handle. There had been special classes about pleasure on the beach.

One of John’s hands drifted up from knotting in the blanket to instead cradle the back of Jesse’s head. Just a little forceful, never too much. Jesse hummed appreciatively, eliciting a louder moan from his client. John had always had that perfect balance as a customer, able to make his will known without being annoyingly overbearing. Some clients took far too much enjoyment, for Jesse’s taste, in behaving as if they owned him. Now, if he could only keep him moaning loudly enough to drown out the waves…  
Ah, but there. The taste of success. Jesse waited, and carefully judged the appropriate moment to pull back and rest his head against John’s thigh. He smiled down indulgently at his spent client.

“Good one, boss?” he asked coyly, when he was pretty sure the man had enough breath back to answer.

“…yes…” John gasped in reply, “…could…would you like…might I do the same for you?”

Jesse’s smile faltered. He knew John wouldn’t be able to get him up, much less off, this near the water. But John wasn’t to know he was uncomfortable with this whole place. The client came first. Also, the client was first priority.

“I’d prefer not,” Jesse began tentatively, spinning a half-truth into something believable, “I’m not a big fan of receiving pleasure in open places. Sorry. Of course I’m happy to service you however and wherever you like, I’m just not big on getting off outside, yeah?”

John chuckled weakly. “Are you shy?”

“Maybe a little,” Jesse giggled back. “Normally, I mean, I’m here for you, what I want isn’t important as long as we’re not talking about any items from that very short list I gave you of 'never will I evers’, but if this is gonna be my life for a long time then I figure you should at least be aware of my preferences? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” John conceded, stretching out lazily. “Just a bit of a reflex, really. Trying to spread the orgasms around. If you don’t want one, though, I’m not going to shove it down your throat. Or _my_ throat, I suppose.”

Jesse laughed again, and gently slid John’s swim trunks back up his legs before lying down beside him. Crisis averted. He rested his head against the Brit’s chest, and smiled as the man welcomed him there with an arm around his shoulders. John had always been a cuddler.

They basked there long enough that Jesse began to forget about the ocean and all its foreboding presence, until John finally spoke again.

“We ought to get out and see the reefs soon,” he speculated.

“…oh yeah?” Jesse mumbled noncommittally. SHIT.

“Mmm. Our hotel has snorkeling equipment we can borrow, and there’s a boat that’ll take us out to the best spots. The afternoon tide ought to be perfect today. We should go. I’ll make the reservations.”

***

Jesse made it all the way back to the hotel room before he cracked. John had gone straight to the reception desk to make the arrangements, sending him back alone. He slammed the door behind him and fell against it, finally letting his breathing match his racing heart. His arms were shaking so hard that it took him a couple of tries to cross them over his chest.

He hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years. He didn’t have the medication for it anymore. He lived inland for a reason.

Jesse stumbled forward, groping for walls that were trying to spin away from him. Snorkeling. From a boat. Not even near solid ground he could swim to if shit hit the fan. He stumbled into the bathroom and clung to the sink.

“Come on, Cox,” he mumbled toward the basin, “Get it together. Get it together. You’re a _pro_ , you can _do this_ ,” he looked up at his reflection, and saw himself for the wreck that he was. “I’m fucking screwed.”

But then, on the counter, he spotted something. He recognized it as the bottle that John had offered him on the plane.

_“Need any?” John had asked, shaking the bottle to make the pills rattle. “Good stuff, non habit-forming. Puts me right out. I hate flying.”_

Jesse picked it up cautiously. He’d turned them down on the plane, but maybe that was all he needed now. How different could they be from the pills his doctor had used to give him? Just a little something to calm him down. He knew his phobia was irrational anyway, it wasn’t like this afternoon was actually going to be dangerous.

He was about to read the dosage instructions when he heard footsteps in the hall. In a sudden rush, he ripped off the cap, dumped a small handful of tablets into his palm and threw them in his mouth, downing them without water. By the time John actually got into the room, Jesse was strolling casually out of the bathroom, as if he’d done nothing more remarkable than take a pee.

The wealthy Brit grinned at him, excited for adventure.

“Ready to go?”

*****************************************************

 _Now_ …

Jesse pried his own eyelids apart with a massive amount of effort, and groaned under the strain. What the fuck? Had someone poured superglue in his eyeballs? And shoved a toilet brush down his throat? And left an anvil sitting on his chest?

“Awake, are you,” a deep voice muttered dryly nearby. “Here. They said you wouldn’t need this once you woke up.”

Something was pulled away from Jesse’s face, and he coughed. Breathing was now even harder, for some reason.

“I hope you realize this is a deal-breaker,” the voice went on.

A what now? Jesse thought, working on mustering the strength to form words.

“I can’t say I have no sympathy,” there was a heavy sigh, “But I’ve been burned before. I’m sorry, I can’t tolerate it.”

_I didn’t burn anybody. Did I burn somebody?_

“You don’t have to tell me why. You don’t owe me any explanation. I can guess, though…I assume your work must be hard on you sometimes, especially emotionally–”

“…..fukreyou talkin about….” Jesse managed to wheeze, cutting off the voice he had finally identified as John. “…love my job…”

“Well then,” John’s tone lost its remaining warmth. “Nevermind me trying to sympathize,” He sighed again. “Not angry. Still not angry. Disappointed I won’t be able to hire you again, but not angry. It isn’t your fault. Addiction is a terrible thing, and it can creep up on you, I know, I’m–”

“Fukn the fuck fuckin what,” Jesse tried to shake his head and regretted it. “Fuckin what am I addicted to? Dick?”

“You’ve been caught, Jesse, there’s no use denying it, you nearly died,” John’s temper flared again briefly, but he reeled it back in. “I won’t know exactly what you’ve been on until the tests are completed. You could save us both some time by owning up.”

“Died?” Jesse repeated the word that had caught his attention, his voice going pathetically thin. He tried to wrack his brain for a matching memory, but today was a mystery shrouded in fog. There’d been a boat. Some very blue water. Very pretty fish. Absolute calm.

Wait what. Calm? On a boat? Not bloody likely. But he definitely remembered that. In fact he was pretty sure he’d seen a couple of those little reef sharks with the black-tipped fins. He’d waved at them.

The pace of the heart monitor tripled instantly. Jesse went completely rigid, clinging to the bed to keep from spinning away into the void, as gravity seemed to have been turned off. He could dimly hear someone calling for a nurse in the background. The blood rushing in his ears was much louder, though. The room was suddenly cold as ice, which was odd because his ribcage was filled with fire.

He’d been swimming with sharks.

Of course he’d nearly died.

********************************************

“Completely clean,” John repeated, reading from the sheet on the table in front of him. Nearly a week had passed, during which Jesse had grudgingly submitted to a full battery of tests. “You’re in perfect health, it seems, no long-term damage or lingering traces of any illicit substance.”

“I keep telling you, man, I barely even drink.”

“Yes. It seems I owe you an apology,” John admitted.

Jesse heaved another frustrated sigh. “I’d be madder, but I guess I did this to myself. That was a pretty bone-headed move.”

“How bloody terrified of sharks do you have to be to think a load of sleeping pills before swimming is a good idea?” John mused, still trying to wrap his head around the truth. The absolute scale of Jesse’s fuck-up had made him all the more hesitant to give up on his original theories about Jesse’s drug habits.

“Very.” Jesse stated emphatically. “I should have said something. I didn’t want you to think you couldn’t take me anywhere with open water. I backed myself into a corner and I’m lucky to be alive.”

John shut his eyes, blocking out the test results. These results should please him, but they only seemed to underline what a cynic he’d become.

“I’m sorry,” John began. “I’ve misjudged you. I’ve misused you. It’s just as you said on the beach. I let myself forget that you have your own needs. I don’t own you, and your opinions need to be heard. I never asked where you would like to go. I never gave you a chance to say no to anything that wasn’t expressly sex.”

“That’s harsh, John. You were just trying to show me a good time. I had lots of chances.”

“I know, but I went about it wrongly, I put pressure on you without meaning to. And when it went wrong, I was so quick to assume…”

“You said you’ve been burned before,” Jesse said softly, placing a comforting hand on the man’s knee. Well trained.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been married?” John asked.

“More than once, sounds like.”

“Five times.”

“You are not old enough to have been married five times,” Jesse replied, eyes wide.

“No. I’m not. But here I am,” John rubbed his forehead. “Two left me for rival businessmen. Two, I divorced because I couldn’t stand them. One overdosed.”

Jesse sat in silent shock.

“This…this is why I wanted to hire you,” John confessed, pouring his heart out now that he’d gotten started. “In my world, I don’t know who to trust. Who’s stable. I have too much money. People only want into my pants to take my wallet. Five spouses, and every one of them wanted to be a kept woman, or man. All they were good for after a few months was spending my money, taking up space in my house, wrecking my cars, and…dying on my bathroom floor.

"It’s horribly cold of me, I know. I can’t face it anymore. Because you, you’re a professional. You have to pass screenings. You can’t be diseased, you can’t be on drugs. You can’t be out of your mind, someone would know by now. I get to tell you exactly how much of my money you’re entitled to. You have to treat me with respect, or I can tell you to get out, and you’re not allowed to take half of my things when you go.

"I loved them all, in the beginning,” John was nearly whispering now. “Each of them took a piece of my heart with them when they left. Especially…him. I’m tired of love. I’m tired of putting what’s left of me on the line over and over, just to keep from being so damn lonely. I thought you’d be just the thing.”

“John,” Jesse stepped in when his potential employer paused for breath. “I understand. I didn’t know it was on that scale, but, you know, you don’t get through escort school without learning the reasons why we get hired. It’s okay. You know what, it’s not my job to love you, but I do like you. You need somebody to keep you company? I got that. You need a friend to talk to? I can do that. You need somebody to keep your bed warm? I’m all over that.”

Jesse smiled and took one of John’s hands, waiting for the man to look at him.

“We both need to learn to understand each other better,” he went on, “But I think, if you’re convinced now that I’m not using, that this can still work. I’m ready to spend the rest of the month here, and give this a real chance. Are you?”

John regarded him for a moment before making up his mind, then nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shark-phobia canon, clothing-kink unconfirmed.


	4. Playing God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have written some silly things in my time. This ranks in at least the top three. 
> 
> Based fairly closely on several Sims 4 livestreams by Dodger (irl) in which she indulgently built a little Totalcox love-nest at the request of fans. She remarked that Sims are always really happy about whatever you do to them.

The Voice was at work. Jesse could tell by the way his heart seemed to stop for a moment, the way the world seemed to freeze. The Voice, the all-powerful force that guided the lives of every Sim, was changing something in their world. 

In an instant, it was over, and Jesse could breathe again. He looked around, smiling, to see what had changed.

“Oh! We have a home!” he exclaimed, looking over his husband’s shoulder. The empty plot of land that had been behind him now contained a stark, one-story structure that did not yet have siding or a roof. The Voice had said that the land was theirs, and that meant this house was theirs to live in. 

“Let’s go in!” said TB, equally enthusiastic. The Voice did not speak to all Sims at all times, it only chose deserving souls to aid. Such a gift from the Voice was always to be appreciated.

“What a lovely deck! Oh, look at all this space!" 

The open living space Jesse had found beyond the front door was entirely empty and very dark, but already floored with a lovely dark hardwood. He trotted merrily through the room, his white bunny slippers flapping against the fresh floor. (The Voice, in its wisdom, had decided that he should always wear pajamas.)

"The Voice provides,” TB agreed reverently, admiring the pink cabinets in their kitchen. He also took a moment to admire the bounce of his husband’s luscious badonk as the blond continued to jog cheerfully through their new space. 

Most Sims were afraid to take any initiative when the Voice was actively guiding them. The Voice could give commands at any moment, often many at a time. It could be confusing enough trying to please the voice without adding in your own agenda of tasks. If you thought hard enough about what you wanted most, though, the Voice would often send you to do it. 

TB tried to focus his thoughts on Jesse, and that lovely round behind of his. Maybe the Voice would let them be close today. Very close.

Suddenly, Jesse froze in his tracks and gasped.

“Sit on the bed!” he said, in the dreamy, breathless voice that he always adopted when he’d been given a command by the Voice. Most Sims repeated such orders aloud, to let others know that they’d been privileged to receive direct guidance. 

Eagerly, Jesse strutted off to carry out his task. He threw open the door he was sure led to the bedroom, but then stopped short in dismay. The room contained only a single piece of furniture: an enormous, lavish bed with a plush pink comforter, so huge that the headboard strained the ceiling and the mattress itself was higher than his face.

“Oh no!” Jesse wailed. “I can’t! It’s too high!” He waved his arms, apologizing to the Voice. “I can’t! I’m sorry! I can’t!”

 _Sleep_ , whispered the Voice in his mind.

“Sleep?!” Jesse repeated, distraught. “I can’t do it!”

_Sleep._

“I can’t!” Jesse was almost in tears. Not being able to please the Voice was a Sim’s worst nightmare. The frozen feeling of the Voice altering the world returned, but when it was gone, nothing had changed. Jesse thought perhaps that the bed had moved, just an inch.

No more orders entered his mind, however. He waited patiently, nervous that he had done poorly, but the slight tingly sensation he always got when the Voice was watching him in particular had gone.

Behind him, he heard TB mutter, “Use toilet?”

TB’s repetitions of the Voice’s orders were always slightly questioning, as if he wanted to be sure he had it right before beginning. 

Jesse remained standing in the bedroom door, listening to the other man’s footsteps crossing the living room to another door. TB’s dress shoes clacked with authority on the floorboards; the Voice had decided that  _he_  should dress only in smart black suits and patent-leather shoes. Jesse heard the door open and close, and a moment later, a flush. 

“No sink in there,” TB commented as the door opened again. Jesse started to relax. It didn’t seem like the Voice had any more impossible orders for him just now, so he turned to follow TB over to the kitchen sink. “Very interesting gnomes, though,” TB went on, washing his hands. “You should see that room, it’s amazing." 

Jesse smiled nervously. If only his orders from the Voice had been as easy to complete. He wished that TB would comfort him, but it was unlikely that he would unless the voice asked him to. 

 _Embrace TB_.

Jesse’s eyes brightened and he stood up straighter, feeling the tingle again. "Embrace TB!” he repeated, delighted to be able to comply. 

Hearing him, TB turned toward him with welcoming arms. Jesse fell against him gratefully, relishing the feel of his cool, satin tie against the bare skin revealed by his own deep-cut v-neck sleep shirt. He sighed happily.

The Voice provides.

                                                       ***

Later, the Voice instructed them to go next door and introduce themselves to the neighbor lady. Jesse was allowed to give a funny introduction, and had a long chat with her. TB, however, was led around the house on a random set of whims. He danced to the stereo in her bedroom, ate some lovely food from her fridge, and only then, and rudely, introduced himself. 

Perhaps the Voice did not intend them to be friends. 

After the couple returned home, they received no more guidance for a while. Over the next couple of days, though, they often saw their neighbors repeating orders and hurrying to carry them out. The Voice had many charges to care for in this neighborhood, it seemed. Jesse and TB waited patiently until it was their turn again, living contentedly in their dark, empty house. Fortunately, the bed had been shrunk for them by the time they got home, so they had somewhere to sleep at least. 

Eventually one morning, just as he was finishing up in their en-suite bathroom, Jesse felt the world pause again. Could it be that the voice was improving their home again? When he turned off the sink after washing his hands, he could hear TB laughing several rooms away. 

 _Watch_ , the Voice commanded Jesse.

It hadn’t said what to watch or where to go, but as with all orders, Jesse merely followed his feet, quietly repeating “Watch!”

He found TB standing in the doorway of what they had begun to call the “throne room”, the lavishly decorated bathroom that contained no sink but which was guarded always by two huge gnome statues. Jesse nudged his husband out of the way until he could join him in watching…a laser light show?

“Oh, wow!” Jesse exclaimed, beaming, as the bright swirls of color danced before them. “This room is the best!”

Impishly, Jesse dared to blow TB a kiss without being told to. Pink hearts blossomed in the air around his husband as the startled brunette turned to meet Jesse’s adoring gaze. 

“Why, Mister Coxish,” TB said with a playful grin, “I do believe you did that without orders.”

“Maybe I did, but the Voice is pleased,” Jesse returned, positively glowing at his success. He could feel it when the Voice approved of his actions, and he was certain that he could hear far-off joyful laughter. 

Just then, the world paused again. It didn’t take any longer, but this time it seemed to happen with more force, as if the change to their surroundings had been so great that it struck reality with a tangible impact. 

“Come on,” TB said, grinning broadly and taking Jesse by the hand. “Let’s see what the Voice has given us this time.”

The pair toured their home, wide-eyed as they took in all the changes. The pink kitchen was gone, replaced with all blue-and-white cabinetry and countertops, and bright, airy windows all around. Stairs had sprung up along one side of the previously empty living space, which now also contained a pair of desks and computers for them to work and play at, angled back-to-back so that they could be near each other while they used them. That was nothing compared to the bedroom, though, where the walls had been all but filled completely with resplendent Victorian windows and elegant drapes, interspersed with wrought-iron lamplights. The walls, drapes, new bed, new chairs and new game table had all been done in a deep, rich red. Most stunningly, though, an enormous sculpture stood watch over the room, crowned regally with a top-hat so tall that it protruded from the roof. A single strip of pale-blue carpet led to the base of its plinth from the door. 

Jokingly, like the goofball he was, Jesse speculated that the stairs had been installed just so that they could go up on the roof and see the rest of the hat poking through. When they went to investigate, while they did find that the hat was visible above their bedroom, they found that the rest of their second story was much, much more interesting. 

Their house now had a rooftop garden. Two towering pine trees stood in the back corners, and two elephant topiaries looked out over the street from the front. Another topiary, in the shape of a llama, guarded a gap in the hedge that otherwise surrounded the area. A carpet of grass and flowers covered the ground, dotted with plants, stones, a park bench, and a full working bar. The Voice asked Jesse to make himself a drink while they were there, and he happily did his best. 

The Voice gently guided them through the rest of the day, sometimes not giving them fresh instructions for hours at a time, but never leaving their house. At all times, at least one of them felt the tingle of being watched. They made food in their new kitchen, played at their new computers, and marveled gratefully at each new possession that the Voice bestowed upon them, including such necessities as a dining table and a stereo. 

Though the voice gave them lots of room to make their own decisions, Jesse tried his best to please it with his actions nonetheless. After a few tries, he learned that the Voice was most pleased when he made small romantic gestures toward TB. He swore that he could hear delighted squealing in the distance once when he kissed his beloved lightly on the cheek.

TB, however, still seemed afraid to make a move without being told. He had that look in his eye that Jesse knew well, that one that he always saw right before being dragged back to the bedroom, yet nothing seemed to come of it. All of TB’s orders from the Voice were domestic, keeping him busy cooking meals and cleaning dishes. 

As the evening wore on, Jesse began to give up on the idea. Just as he was about to get up from his desk and get a snack, though, a pair of arms wrapped suddenly around him from behind, pinning him into his chair. His own hands snapped up reflexively to seize them, grabbing onto the silky black sleeves of TB’s suit jacket.

“The Voice provides,” TB whispered sensually.

“What does the voice provide, my love?” Jesse asked in reply, tipping his head back and smiling. He knew, but he wanted to hear TB say it. 

“ _Woohoo with Jesse_ ,” the brunette moaned. “Come to me, darling, and bring that big bouncy bum of yours. I’ve been waiting to get at it all day.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Jesse followed his husband quickly to the bedroom, patent-leather dress shoes and fluffy white bunny slippers matching each other step for step. They each hastened to their own side of the bed, and made gooey eyes at one another for just a moment before whirling in place. When they came to rest, they were clad in pajamas. Of course Jesse was always dressed in pajamas, but the ones he actually slept in were distinct, with a camouflage tank-top replacing his v-neck. Now ready to begin, the loving husbandos slipped into bed and disappeared completely under the covers. 

For long, romance-filled minutes, the blankets heaved and jiggled, giving only cryptic indications of what went on beneath them. Soft moans and desperate cries filled the room, echoing from the wooden floor but dampened by the heavy drapes. 

“Ohhhhhh, Jesse…”

“Yes, baby, yes, just there, ah!”

“Tell me how you like it, love…”

“Just like that, just like that, oh honey…”

“Mmmmmmm…”

“Oh!”

A corner of the blanket pulled back for a moment, allowing half of a blonde-haired brown-eyed face to peek out before the covers were suddenly jerked back into place.

“What are you doing, you silly? You know you have to stay in here until I’m finished with you,” TB purred. That possessive tone was the closest he ever got to taking out his evil streak on his own husband. 

“I like to see the hearts,” Jesse sighed. The sheer force of their loving could fill the whole room with them, sometimes. “Big ones tonight. Lovely dark pink.”

“Of course they are,” TB murmured with a touch of pride. “Let’s make some more.”

For all their enthusiasm, it couldn’t last forever, and eventually the pair were to be found curled tenderly around one another in bed, no longer hidden under heaving coverlets and a cloud of hearts. 

“You know, I think we need to make some enemies,” Jesse mumbled sleepily. He had his own evil streak, after all. “Maybe if we focus on that tomorrow, the Voice will let us be mean to some people.”

TB chuckled. “The Voice always provides, in its own time. Jesse?”

“Yes honey?”

“The Voice wanted something today…something it couldn’t properly tell me to do yet, but I still picked up its intentions,” TB tried to explain, looking worried. 

“What’s the matter?” Jesse asked. He reached out a hand and tenderly stroked the area of his husband’s chest left bare by the v-neck that  _he_  now wore. Jesse appreciated very much, and found it very romantic, that the Voice had decided that TB should wear the same shirts to sleep in that Jesse wore during the day, but sometimes it was hard to tell whether it was TB who was sleeping in Jesse’s clothes, or if it was Jesse himself who was wearing TB’s pajamas all day. 

“I think…” TB began, hesitantly. He clutched Jesse’s hand to his chest more tightly, for comfort. “The Voice wanted to find a way for you to have a baby.”

“A…a baby? Me?” Jesse was startled. Did the Voice have that power? Could a man bear a child, if the Voice willed it to be so? “Your baby?”

“Yes, of course it would be my baby,” TB confirmed, giving him a crooked, possessive smile. “But…what do you think? Would you be able to handle that?”

Jesse’s gaze strayed away from TB’s face, lost in thought. His hand wandered down to rest over his own belly. He stroked it speculatively. He tried to imagine what it would be like, to have a little person inside him, growing under the shelter of that curve. 

“I think I could,” Jesse whispered, beginning to smile again. “I think that if the Voice decides to bless me with your child, then I will carry it gladly.”

He looked back up at TB, his eyes shining with glee.

“Besides,” Jesse went on, “Can you imagine the nursery that the Voice would build for us?”


	5. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very little to note here. Sfw bit of fluff, mainly involves confidants. No AU to speak of.

A lopsided, hulking shape shambled through the doorway into Jesse’s apartment. It paused in the dark and shifted its stance until a short, wiry arm could be spared to flail wildly at a patch of wall. At last it found the lightswitch and, with a loud click and a sudden blinding light, it was revealed to be two people, the larger and less sober of whom was leaning quite heavily on his diminutive companion. 

“Ok, Jesse, c'mon,” Brooke panted, catching him for the umpteenth time before he could quite tip over, “Just a few more steps, buddy, you’re almost home." 

”…y'good fren…“ Jesse’s slur was almost too thick to understand. 

"Yup,” she confirmed, much too busy steering her unsteady charge toward safe harbor to waste any effort on words. 

What the hell had gotten into him tonight, anyway? Other than enough alcohol to kill a small horse. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Jesse drink this much. Thankfully she and Davis had noticed his pace before the evening got very far along, and confiscated his car keys forthwith. He’d insisted that there was nothing wrong, that he just felt like having some drinks with friends, but that couldn’t be the whole truth, unless she’d missed the official definition of “a few drinks” being changed to “several gallons of hard liquor”. 

Finally, the pair reached the couch and Dodger was able to let her living burden drop unceremoniously onto the cushions. She stood back with her arms raised victoriously and flexed a few times.

“Aw ye! Beastmode!” she cracked her back for good measure. “You, my friend, are officially home safe. Can I getcha anything before I go?”

Jesse struggled to hold his head upright, features pitifully slack. 

“….?” was about all he managed to say, but he said it with the eyes of a sad drunk friend. Brooke could feel her resolve to go home and get a good night’s sleep crumbling.  As she watched, his hazy gaze slid away from her face and over to the stairs.

“You want to go up to your room, don’t you,” she said flatly. Was ditching out now and not having to drag Jesse’s drunk ass up those stairs really worth the risk that he’d try to get up there on his own after she left and stumble and break his neck? Maybe, but it’d make her a pretty shit friend. 

**********************************************************

Already a few hundred miles away and a few thousand feet above sea-level, Sam returned to his seat, pulled out his phone and flipped through his game library. He smirked at his neighbor. 

“Not going to play anything?” he teased the other Brit. “It’d give you fuel for the next podcast.”

“I am currently playing ‘close my eyes and pretend I’m not here: Airbus A340 edition’. It’s pretty shit,” John grumbled in response. Sam didn’t seem able to take the hint presented by noise-canceling headphones, a pillow, a blanket and a pair of sunglasses. TB wanted to be dead to the world. 

“I see,” Sam said with a serious nod that was belied by his poorly-suppressed smile. “And do you find it to be a worthwhile sequel, or merely a somewhat flashier but ultimately bland and uncreative iteration on the A330 edition?”

“I find it to be a bloody fourteen hour plane ride that I want literally nothing to do with. I hate planes. Devil take them, I’d rather row across this sodding ocean,” TB snarled. Making witty small talk was near the bottom of the list of things he’d like to be doing now.

“Now, John, let’s not be so hard on the ol’ trans-Atlantic flights,” Sam insisted, in a soothing tone that John took as entirely condescending. “Without them I never would have met my Lady Love, after all.”

John rolled his eyes and shifted to face the window, only sneering harder when Sam laughed at him and returned to the world of mobile gaming. If he had to hear about how _completely in wuv_ Dodger and Sam were one more time, he was going to punch them both. 

*****************************************************************************************

“I am literally the greatest friend ever right now,” Dodger mumbled, mostly to herself, in a rare moment of silence between the retches and moans coming from the direction of the toilet. She shifted, pulling one leg up onto the edge of the tub, and propped her elbow against it so that she could hold up her face. “Of all the things I could be doing tonight, you had to pick this,” she made a face. He wouldn’t remember this lecture anyways, no reason to hold back. “I guess it’s nice not to be the most miserable person in the room, but I think I could have cheered myself up a lot more effectively with a tube of cookie dough and a movie.”

“Don’ leeeeeeeeave…” Jesse wailed softly, echoing in the toilet bowl.

“Eh, I’m not going anywhere,” she reassured him. “Nothing to rush home to, with Sam gone. Well I mean, cats, but they don’t tell time very well, they won’t know.”

Brooke heaved a sigh, rolling Jesse to the side so that his head wouldn’t fall in. 

“I bet even Sam’s having a better time than me. Although knowing John and planes, TB probably isn’t any better company than you are.”

“Jawn….Jawwwwwwwwwwwwwn…”

“Shoosh. Get empty so you can go to bed.”

******************************************************************************************

“Listen, dude, I’ve flown with you before, and even for you that is one hell of a grumpy face. Are you ok?" 

"I cannot fathom why I ever allow anyone to talk me into sharing flights with you. Let me sleep.”

“That wasn’t an answer, John. Open up a little. We’re all friends here. Er, in these two seats, at least.”

TB only snarled and pulled his cap down farther. 

“Look, even if something’s upsetting you, it’s really not that hard to be a pleasant person,” Sam’s patience was starting to wear thin. “I’m not going to see Brooke again for at least a month, and what am I doing? Trying to be nice to my friend, is what, not moping like a toad." 

"Oh, a month, at home alone, how sad, how really tragic,” John snapped. “Get over yourself, pretty boy.”

“Watch it.”

“You’re in a committed relationship with a lovely girlfriend who treats you well, you’re open about it in public, and you’re not even going away for that long. Really, I cry for you every night. So tragic." 

"Are you _jealous?_ Is that all this is?" 

John took a deep breath through his nose, visibly calming himself. He didn’t need to be breaking people’s noses on airplanes; that was a sure way to get his visas revoked. 

"I just really don’t need to hear any more about you and Brooke right now, okay?” he said quietly, after a moment.

“Okay,” Sam said with a nod. He reminded himself that he’d started this conversation trying to help. His own pride could wait.

Several minutes passed in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam eventually saw TB reach up and wipe his face. 

“Sam, I am jealous,” John admitted. His voice was thick. Sam turned to give him his full attention. “I’m jealous that…that you can be open.”

So, that was it. John had a sweetheart somewhere who wasn’t ready to announce their love to the internet. 

“Are you flying towards them, or away?” Sam asked, just loudly enough for TB to hear him.

“Away,” John’s voice broke on the word. 

 _Ah, now we arrive at the heart of the matter,_ Sam thought. “When will you be able to come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you don’t know when you’ll see her again, and you can’t talk about it, because she’s not ready to tell the world.”

John smiled at him, ruefully. “No, he isn’t. **_He_** isn’t ready to tell.”

Sam blinked; everything clicked. “Jess–?”

“Shh, don’t. If I don’t confirm it I can still tell him I haven’t told anyone,” John said urgently. “You mustn’t breathe a word, please, not even to Brooke.”

*********************************************************************************

Long after the crack of dawn, Jesse started to open his eyes, and immediately slammed them shut again. Clearly he had done something regrettable last night, according to the throbbing of his head and the churning of his stomach. He felt like his eyes, ears and mouth had all been stuffed with cotton. He groaned his displeasure with his own poor choices. 

“Oh good, you’re awake, can I go home now?”

Jesse sat bolt upright, hangover or no. Fully dressed in last night’s clothes and looking a bit smooshed and exhausted, Dodger was lying in bed beside him. Possibly having been recently somewhat _under_ him. 

“Broo? Dodge, we didn’t, tell me we didn’t–”

“No, Jesse, nothing like that,” she rubbed her eyes. Last night’s horrors had not included that particular mistake. “I just stayed to make sure you lived through the night. I was planning to take the couch, but when I tipped you into bed you pulled me in and made a teddy bear out of me. Seemed to think I was someone else." 

Jesse’s mind whirred amid the fog of recent alcohol. "Felicia Day, probably.”

“Not unless she’s changed her name to 'John’ recently." 

Jesse paled. 

"It makes more sense now,” Dodger continued, making herself comfortable. “Why you drank so much last night. I couldn’t figure out what you had to be so upset about, before that, but…he’s not coming back for a while, is he?”

“No,” Jesse whispered. Just saying it made him want to reach for another bottle. 

“I’m sorry, Jesse. I didn’t know,” she sat up and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” panic didn’t so much tint his words as paint them with an industrial-grade sprayer. “Not even Sam?”

“I won’t. That’s up to you guys,” she assured him. “I just wish you’d tell me these things so I could help you find a way to cope that doesn’t have to end in AA meetings.”

*******************************************************************************************

“Hey sweetie! You get landed ok?" 

"Well I must’ve, do I look like I’ve been in a fiery plane crash?” Sam retorted over skype. 

“Haha, I guess not. Was TB grouchy?”

“A bit,” Sam remembered his promise. “Nothing unusual. You look a bit shagged out, long night out with the boys?”

“Sort of,” Brooke replied. Someday, she’d share that story. Not today, though. She’d promised. “Nothing unusual.”


	6. Meet me at the Cheesecake Factory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some "You've Got Mail"-type shennanigans. Part one of two.

John sat at his table alone, fiddling with his napkin nervously. His date should be here any minute. They’d been talking through a dating site for ages and they seemed like a great match; it was more than time to meet. Still. The butterflies in his stomach weren’t exactly listening to reason.

“Oh hey buddy, fancy seeing you here!”

John snapped out of his reverie and looked up into the familiar face of Jesse Cox. He wasn’t that shocked to see him, Jesse did live nearby and they’d often visited this restaurant with friends. 

“Um, hi,” John replied. “Are you here alone? Seems odd for you.”

“Nah, I’m looking for somebody. Mind if I join you for a minute first?" 

"…sure?” John replied cautiously, watching the blond slide into the booth across the table. 

“What about you?” Jesse asked, “Just really really needed some chessecake?”

“No, for your information, I am waiting for my date,” John blushed a little, trying to master his expression. He reminded himself that he wasn’t doing anything shameful. If Jesse wanted to judge him for this he could just fuck off.

“Oooooh who’s the lucky lady?” Jesse asked with a sly grin.

John opened his mouth to answer, but all he managed to do was blush harder. 

“What’s the matter? Is it somebody I know?” Concern started to invade Jesse’s expression as John only grew more flustered. “Come on, bro, you can tell me. Is it a secret? Is it a guy?”

John looked down at the table.

“Oh my god it is a guy,” Jesse’s eyes widened. “That’s ok, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Duno why you wouldn’t just say so, you should know me better than that. So, where’d you meet him?”

“I haven’t technically met him yet,” John managed to sort of croak out. “We’ve been talking anonymously online, and we decided to meet tonight.”

“Really,” John was too nervous to catch the shift in Jesse’s tone and expression. “Well, tell me about him. What do you know?”

“Oh, nothing  _about_  him really, just what he’s like. We haven’t shared any personal details, we just….talk,” John stared dreamily into his water glass. “He makes me laugh. He’s such a charmer, too. I didn’t actually realize…I didn’t know he was a man until later on, until I’d already fallen for him. By then I didn’t really care, but, I’m worried,” he looked up at Jesse, almost pleadingly. “ _I’m not normally attracted to men_. I really like this guy but I’m worried that a romantic relationship just isn’t going to work.”

Jesse was staring back at him, conflicting emotions twitching across his face. “John,” he said at length, “On this dating website. Is your username, by any chance, VinnySpiker24?”

John paled. “How did you know that?”

Jesse clapped his hands to his face and dissolved into his characteristic hysterical laughing. 

"Jesse no how did you know that.”

“Oh my god it was you the whole time!” Jesse gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Christ man my name is WorkThatMojo who did you think it was??”

“ _You do not own the word mojo_ ,” John hissed, catching his face in his hands as the truth sank in. 

A few moments of awkward silence ensued.

“Well, now what?” Jesse finally ventured.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if this is weird or if it actually puts us several steps ahead because I already know I can trust you,” John mused. 

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “You still want to date?”

“Well, why not? I fell for you on the basis of a lot of conversations which, upon reflection, were exactly how you are all the time,” John argued. “The only difference between between the times we talked over the dating site and all of the rest of the time is that we went into those consciously thinking, ‘this is somebody I might want to smooch on.’" 

"Uh huh, about that,” Jesse said skeptically, “Once you realized I  _didn’t have a vagina_  you put a lot of effort into warning me that a physical relationship might be uncomfortable for you. How you feelin’ about that now?” 

John looked up at him, his chin still resting in his hands with his fingers against his temples. He looked a bit defeated. "Your place or mine?” he whispered.

Shock, disbelief, and amusement mingled on Jesse’s face. 

“Seriously?? You don’t even like dudes, and  _I’m_  the exception?”

"Since when do  _you_  even like men?”

"Since none of your business!” Jesse laughed, “But for real, what?”

“Combine how much I already care about you just from knowing you since forever,” John mumbled, rubbing his face in frustration, “With all the mushyness and seduction and questioning of my own sexuality that happened online, and yes. I am fully prepared to jump into bed with you at this point.”

“Mmhmm. Ok. But I don’t put out on a first date so just keep it in your pants for a minute mister,” Jesse said, affecting a sassy, slurry, slightly feminine voice. “I’m a classy broad.”

“Wha—you asked me!  _You_  asked  _me_  if I wanted to!”

"I asked if you thought you could handle a physical relationship, not if you wanted to strip me naked and get down ‘n’ dirty right now,” Jesse clarified, smirking. “All in good time, although I’m down for some snuggles if you do wanna come over after dinner." 

John sighed and tried to hide his returning blush behind his menu. “Fine. Sure. Let’s plan on that.”

"It’s a date then,” Jesse grinned. 


	7. Let's Watch Thunderball (part 2 of Meet me at the Cheesecake Factory)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the date from the previous fic. Still SFW, mainly involves talking about feelings.

Jesse had had worse first dates in his life, he supposed. Much worse blind dates, to be sure. There’d been the suspiciously young-looking girl who’d pretended not to be an obsessed fan, the older woman who wouldn’t quit bitching about her ex, the way-too-flamboyant-to-function-but-temptingly-hot guy, and, worst of all, one or two men he hadn’t trusted to hold his drink. The last couple of years had been full of trial and error. 

Going out with John was about a thousand percent better than any of those times. It was just a bit…janky. “Awkward” wasn’t quite the right word, Jesse decided, because that gave too much implication that he was uncomfortable. It was like adding a new gameplay mechanic that he didn’t know quite when to use yet. They’d chatted amiably while waiting for their food, in the manner of all their usual conversations, but punctuated by the occasional poorly-executed attempt at something more “datey”. Like the time when Jesse reached for John’s hand on the table just as the Brit happened to pull it back, John reached back again but Jesse had retreated, and back and forth three more times in an invisible game of tug-of-war until Jesse smacked his own hand down on the table palm-up and waited for John to come to him. John blushed very hard. 

Poor John spent so much time blushing that Jesse worried his cheeks were going to be bruised. When the server came to take their order and gave them a knowing look, he blushed. When Jesse told him he looked quite nice in that shirt, he blushed. He dared to rest his calf against Jesse’s under the table, and turned bright crimson. Jesse caught him staring several times while they were eating, his face as red as a cherry. 

Eventually their server returned with the checks, and the pre-arranged part of the date was over. 

“D'you still want to come over to my place now?” Jesse asked while shrugging back into his coat, standing next to the table and waiting for John to scooch out of the booth on the other side. 

“Um, sure, I suppose,” John replied uncertainly. There was that blush again. 

It turned out that John had taken a cab to the restaurant, in case the date had turned out well enough (or poorly enough) that he were to wind up having too many drinks to get home safely. Jesse therefore ended up driving them both back to his apartment. The ride there, unlike dinner, felt uncomfortably quiet. Jesse wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but nothing he said seemed to get a rise or even much of a reply out of John, who just sat staring out of the window at the passing cityscape. 

Feeling less and less sure of himself, Jesse parked in his usual spot, led John into the building, up the elevator and through his own front door. John stepped over the threshold like a man on his way to the gallows. Jesse sent him on into the living room and frowned at his back. What the hell had gone so wrong in the last twenty minutes since dinner had ended? He grabbed a couple of beers, popped them open, and headed after John. 

“Here,” Jesse said simply, offering one of the open bottles to John as he joined him on the couch. He tried to leave the other man a little personal space, but without sitting so far away as to discourage him from closing the gap if he wanted to. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Okay,” John answered very quietly, as if he were submitting rather than agreeing. 

“Um. We don’t _have_ to.” All sorts of alarm bells were ringing for Jesse by now. His good buddy was definitely _not_ enjoying the same kind of easy companionship they’d shared earlier. “We could play a game or…?”

“Movie sounds fine,” John stated, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen rather than Jesse’s face.

Watching his companion warily, Jesse booted up Netflix and chose a generic old James Bond, after failing to get any input from John about what to watch. They both sat in silence for the first hour, sipping their beers, John unreadable and Jesse growing more and more frustrated.

What did John _want?_ It’d been John who suggested that they give dating a try anyway after they’d realized who they had set themselves up to meet that night, it had been John who had slightly propositioned him shortly after that revelation, and John who had agreed to come back here. But now it was John who had retreated into some impermeable shell of silence and who was still resolutely sitting more than a foot away on the sofa while 007 continued to gun down poorly-trained minions and seduce dubiously-named ladies. Was he frightened of the prospect of being loving and/or physical with another man, as their online interactions might suggest? Or was he frustrated that Jesse was making him wait, as implied by conversation before dinner? Jesse wanted to be understanding and supportive, but he didn’t understand what he was trying to support.

“All right, this is getting silly,” Jesse said eventually. “John, you gotta be straight with me–”

“Phrasing.”

Jesse’s jaw hit the floor. John was still looking straight ahead, completely deadpan. They watched Archer together all the time, there was no doubt that he’d meant it as a quote and therefore as a joke. As Jesse watched, John tried to casually raise his beer for another sip, but cracked up before he could manage it. 

“You–what–!” Jesse was dragged into the laughing fit right along with him, and it turned into a podcast-style meltdown that ended with John collapsed sideways against Jesse’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” John giggled, starting to catch his breath. “I know you meant that to be the start of a serious conversation but you set it up so perfectly. Straight? With you? Really? No I don’t _think_ that’s what you want right now, honestly,” he sighed and tipped his head back against the couch, but didn’t stop leaning on Jesse. “Pretty sure I know what you meant, though, and I am sorry about that as well.”

“What the hell _happened_?”

“Everything just got really REAL after dinner,” John muttered quietly. “I got scared. And then I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable again.”

“John, it could be really wonderful if this worked between us, but I don’t want you to be scared and uncomfortable.”

“No don’t–” John spun towards him and grabbed him arm, “Please don’t give up that easily. It’s just new. I can do this. I’m a little intimidated, but…I do want you.”

Jesse heaved a sigh. “You do realize that a gay relationship is exactly the same as a straight one, right? There are other stages of affection involved. You’re not allowed to just use me for sex. That’s not what I signed up for." 

John sat back as if he’d been slapped. 

"I never–! Oh, shit,” he shut his eyes and grimaced, clearly reviewing his behavior over the evening. “I did sort of say that, didn’t I. I may have slightly thought it, too. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“Apology accepted,” Jesse said graciously. “Here’s the thing, John. I’m totally happy to help you through this and take it at whatever reasonable speed so that you can sort yourself out. It’s not usually easy trying to discover a new side of your sexuality, I’ve been there. Some people do a little exploring and figure out that they just don’t really swing that way. You’re learning, and I understand, but I need you to understand too. I’m gonna do my best to accommodate you, but I still have feelings. I’m a real person. You’re experimenting _with_ me, not _on_ me. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“Aw, hey, chin up,” Jesse reached over and literally lifted John’s chin with his fingertips. “We’ve still got some movie left, what say we watch it like people who actually wanna be together, huh?”

John’s shy smile melted Jesse just a little bit. The Brit cozied up next to him as if determined to be as sweet as possible in order to make up for his previous presumption. Jesse draped an arm around his shoulders, affectionate and a little possessive but hopefully not too intimidating. 

By the end of the movie they’d both gotten a little dozy; Jesse had taken to petting John’s hair slightly and one of John’s hands had found its way to Jesse’s chest. The silence had grown more comfortable, and was interspersed with snarky or goofy comments on the action (depending on who was making them). Jesse was reluctant to let it end, but once the last of the credits rolled off of the screen, he was pretty much out of excuses. 

The blond stretched mightily, a subtle hint to John that it was time to sit up. “It’s late,” he yawned.

“I suppose.”

“Want me to drive you home?" 

"No,” John answered, thinking it over. “I don’t want you to have to drive back alone at this time of night, I’ll call a cab.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Jesse left him to make the call and headed to the kitchen for some water. A few more minutes of chatting on the couch were over all too soon, and the cab had arrived downstairs to take John away. 

“Well…I’ll see you online, I guess,” John said a little awkwardly, pausing just inside the door on his way out. 

“To plan another date?” Jesse prompted slyly. 

“I meant for _work,_ but we can do that as well,” John replied with an equally coy face. 

“Good,” Jesse snagged him by the waist and pulled him into an embrace that definitely would not have been appropriate yesterday. “Cuz I’m not lettin’ you get away that easy.”

John leaned into him with a little sigh and allowed one hand to wander into the forest of that trademark ginger beard. “Who said I was trying to get away?” He pulled back just slightly and bit his lip a little, glancing from Jesse’s eyes to his mouth with a nervous desire that made Jesse’s heart pound. Jesse tried to look encouraging without forcing the issue. John started to move toward him again, tilting his face with definite purpose, and Jesse smiled, let his eyes fall shut, and met him in the middle.

The teeniest, most delicate butterfly kiss just barely touched his lips. 

Jesse burst out laughing and dropped his head to John’s shoulder. 

“What?!” John protested. “What have I done now?”

“Two full-grown thirty-year-old men with beards, and that’s how we kiss? I don’t think so.”

“Are you going to be this critical of my first try at _everything_?”

“Are you going to try everything like you’re afraid of it?”

John seized the back of Jesse’s head with both hands and held him still, silencing his laughter with a proper kiss. Firm, definite, and passionate, but gentle and yielding enough to be the welcoming and equal experience that he’d meant to create on the first try. Jesse turned to jelly in his arms, returning the kiss in equal measure. 

Years of friendship notwithstanding, this was still only their first date, so of course this kiss too reached an end, and John went downstairs to catch his taxi home. Jesse stayed in the kitchen for several minutes, leaning on the wall next to the door in a slight daze. He really hoped that John would be able to figure himself out quickly, and that he would decide in favor of this relationship. 

Because Jesse was falling in love with him. 


	8. Tibetan Bunks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this. This is far and away the silliest thing I've ever done in my life this is insane. 
> 
> Allow me to quote the old Terraria episode that caused it:
> 
> Jesse: "TB Stands for Tibetan Bunk. Which is like a monk. Except it's a bed. For two. Use that in your fanfiction!" *laughing*
> 
> TB: "STOP ENCOURAGING THEM."
> 
> You'll. You'll figure out where that led me as you read it.

It was a long trip to the showfloor from the factory in Tibet. Being flat-packed tightly in the box blurred his senses, but he was sure he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t speak without being put together, though, so he could hardly be expected to make small talk in transit. Instead, he tried to sleep for most of the trip.

One day he woke to find the world in much clearer focus, and noticed that he could feel all his parts for the first time. And some that didn’t seem to be his. As he oriented himself and began to get a sense of his shape, he realized that the instruction manual that had been in front of his face in the box must have been about him, since he seemed to look a lot like the picture labeled “bunk bed”. Half of it, anyways. 

Peering upwards, he saw the other half looking back at him.

“Aw man, how come you get to be on top?” he whined.

“I should think you’d be used to submitting to me by now, since I’ve been grinding against your backside for all our lives so far,” responded the other bed with a snide leer. The first bed felt distinctly uncomfortable about that comment, but decided to push past it since they were likely to be together for a long time.

“Um, ok, uh, nice to meet you? I’m…well beds don’t really have names I guess, what should we call each other? Can I just call you Top Bunk? TB for short?”

“Ha! Sure, I like the sound of that,” TB said scathingly, “and you can be  _Bottom_ Bunk, or maybe  _Lower_  Bunk. There’s nothing quite like reminding someone of their  _place_  every time you speak to them.”

"Wh—hey!”

“LB can stand for a lot of other things too, like maybe Little Bi—”

“FINISH THAT SENTENCE AND I WILL THROW YOU ON THE FLOOR.”

TB fell silent. 

“You wouldn’t,” he finally said, fearfully.

“You want to find out, just fucking push me. I dare you.”

“…”

“Ok TB. Here’s the score. You’re on top, but that doesn’t make you in charge. Call me LB or BB if you want, but just you remember what it stands for. You depend on me. If you want to be friends, I’ll hold you up there forever. But if you’re gonna be a dick I will throw you down so hard—”

“Please don’t,” TB whispered in terror. He was trembling. “D-don’t, don’t drop me, please. Don’t even say it. I’m sorry." 

LB softened a little, hearing the genuine fear in his voice. “I won’t, I promise. Just don’t be a douche.”

"Ok.”

********************************************

From that uneasy start a friendship gradually grew between the two beds. LB learned that TB’s harsh exterior was just a shield he used in uncomfortable situations, and TB came to trust LB with his safety. Together they made themselves at home on the showfloor of the furniture store. From his higher vantage point TB could see more of the store, and spent part of every day relaying news down to his friend below.

Their favorite way to pass the time together was in people-watching. An advantage to being made of wood was that while they understood the conversations of passing customers, humans couldn’t hear the remarks they made in response. 

“That one kind of reminded me of you,” LB giggled after one family passed. 

“What? Which one? I don’t even know which one to hope for,” TB blustered slightly, mentally running down the list of family members they had just seen. What was LB trying to say about him?

“The dad, obviously.”

“Aw, seriously? That stodgy old bugger?”

“Dude you are the stodgiest. You stodgy codger,” LB laughed. “In fact I liked his name too. I might start calling  _you_  John. You look like a John.” 

"Wha—! You—! That is the most boring name—! WELL. You’re going to need a proper name too then. I think I’ll call you Jesse.”

“EXCUSE me, that is a girl’s name,” LB protested.

“It is not, I can see into the TV section from here and they’re always showing some programme called ‘Full House’, and the freewheeling sexy uncle on that is called Jesse.”

“I bet he’s gay.”

“……would that be a problem? Would you not be okay with sharing a name with a gay character?”

LB paused. There was some ulterior motive behind that question, but he couldn’t be exactly sure what it was.

“You know, humans have been around long enough that pretty much every kind of person must have had every name by now,” LB eventually said, trying to sound casual. “Screw it, I’ll take Jesse. Why not." 

"Pff, whatever, Jesse.”

“Whatever, John.”

*******************************************************

“Jesse! JESSE! WAKE UP, PLEASE!”

“What? What’s going on?”

“Jesse something is happening, I think—I think we’ve been  _sold_.”

"But we’re the floor model, can they do that? How long have we been here?”

“I duno, ages, they must’ve put us on clearance,” John was babbling with nerves. “There are men coming, Jesse, men with tools, they’re going to take us apart!”

“Ok, John, calm down and listen to me,” Jesse was starting to fear what might happen too, but right now all he could do about it was try to spare John’s feelings. “It’s going to be ok, you hear? We’re a unit, they can’t split us up. Whatever happens we’re going to be together. Everything is going to be fine.”

“What if they put us together wrong! What if they lose a piece! What if we’re not sold, what if they’re throwing us out; what if they break us, what—JESSE THEY’RE TAKING MY BOLTS!” The men had started to loosen the bolts that kept John in place and kept him safely locked to Jesse. His voice was starting to crack with panic. “Jesse please, you said you’d never drop me, you promised I’d never fall you said you’d hold me forever please you have to stop them  _don’t let them take me_.”

Deeply moved by John’s pleas and beginning to panic himself, Jesse wrenched sharply against the bolts, wedging them in place. A tense moment passed as the workman cranked harder on his ratchet, swearing and trying to dislodge the offending fastener. Jesse and John stared at each other, holding their breath and clinging tightly to one another.

"Careful, Mac,” the other workman said, “Strip out that casing and they’ll never go back together properly. They don’t make parts for those any more, we’ll have to scrap the lot.”

“Oh shit John, did you hear that?”

“…yes.”

“I’m…I’m gonna have to let you go, ok? It’s the only way,” Jesse started to ease his grip. “I’m sorry. I’m not dropping you. I’m saving us. I’ll see you again, I swear.”

John whimpered as the bolt came free and the workmen started on the rest. After a few moments there was nothing left to connect them, and the men started to lift him off.

“JOHN!” Jesse cried out, unable to handle the sight of his friend being taken away. “Be strong, don’t fight them! Be safe, I-I love you!”

“I love you too, Jesse,” John replied softly. 

Jesse watched helplessly as they took John apart and stuffed his pieces back into the box they had once shared. Then the men turned their attention to him. Jesse shuddered, feeling violated by the hands and tools all over him, but did his best to make it easy for them. If he let himself be damaged then he really might never see John again. He soon blacked out from the discomfort.

*******************************************

Hours later Jesse came to, once again packed in the box. The blurring of his senses was more unsettling now that he was used to being out and assembled. He couldn’t feel his legs, or ladder, or, worst of all, John. He couldn’t even speak to see if John was with him. Try as he might, the best Jesse could produce was a soft whine. 

To his immense relief, this feeble noise was answered by a low moan from directly behind him. So close that it sent shivers up his frame. 

“It’s all right, Jesse…” John said in a weak, hoarse whisper. He must have been more intact in the right ways, Jesse assumed. “I’m here. I duno where we’re going, but I’ve got you. We’re together. Try to sleep through it, love.”

Jesse relaxed back into him with a sigh. Their future was far from certain, but at least he knew he hadn’t lost the one he loved. 


End file.
